


Wise Men know Their Own.

by Nightingalewritings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin needs to clean his ears out, Comedy, Funny, Gen, Short, That is your FATHER, Tired Dad Jango, speed writing, yes - Freeform, yes Anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightingalewritings/pseuds/Nightingalewritings
Summary: Jango and Anakin meet face to face....Yeah, that meeting goes totally different then how Anakin was expecting it to go.For one, he wasn't prepared to handle a Mandalorian in Buir-mode....
Relationships: Jango Fett & Anakin Skywalker, Jango Fett/Shmi Skywalker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 178





	Wise Men know Their Own.

“You’re my son.”

The man’s voice came from the canted domed helm of the silver and blue helmet. The T-shaped visor stared into Anakin’s soul in ways that the young Jedi knight had never had before. He felt so naked... stripped bare to his soul. But it was the words that the man said that made his brain kickstart into lightspeed and …. Crash into an asteroid belt.

“”You’re…. what?!” Anakin paused; head tilted at an unsure angle. Hands coming away from his waist with questioning open palms. His shoulders hunched forwards, leg muscles bunched as well.

The Mandalorian’s shoulders and body shook with a full body sigh. His hands spasmed, in ways like Anakin’s. His helmed head jerked back up within seconds. Almost like he wanted to facepalm. Exasperation and tiredness outlined every line of his body.

“Son.”

Anakin shook his head in confusion. Still not understanding what the crazy Mandalorian was talking about. His mom always _always_ told him that he didn’t have a father.

“Descendant,”

One of the jetii’s legs slid backwards with measure while his attention was on the Mandalorian.

“Offspring.”

Arms reached away from side holsters, coming up as he gestured with untamed energy. Silver and blue armour glinted and clanked in ways that were uncommon. The Mando hastened his pace as he kept rattling off words, trying to get Anakin to understand any of them. Legs eating up the ground in long strides, quick forceful movement. A soldier marching, an Alor Leading his men. There was an undercurrent of a mission being satisfyingly incomplete.

“Ad’ika!”

The more words the man spoke, the more and more Anakin looked like a lost little kid.

“Scion!”

Finally the elder stopped dead, spun on his heel and pointed a gloved finger into Anakin’s face with a ferocity. “You. Are. My. Child!”

  
Anakin reeled backwards, eyes crisscrossing as he tried to see the end of the finger in his nose. “The karking sith hells I am! I’m not _your_ son! I am no one’s son!”


End file.
